


Three Dads and a Nephilim Walk into a Bar

by Iblis_Daughter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, Cherokee/Iroquis Mythos, Crack, Gen, H E Double Hockey Sticks, Jack is a Little Shit, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2019-11-18 02:00:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18110954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iblis_Daughter/pseuds/Iblis_Daughter
Summary: The car screeched to a halt in the middle of a cul-de-sac. Dean whipped his head around to the backseat to glare at them both."Who," he hissed, "Taught the kid tofuckingswear?"





	1. Soap

**Author's Note:**

> Idea that wouldn't leave me alone. Haven't written fanfiction in a very long time, and hopefully, it doesn't show. Set ambiguously in season 13 sometime after Castiel returns from The Empty. Sort of a casefic, sort of a domestic!fic. I think it'll be multiple chapters, if anyone likes it. The art is mine.
> 
> \---

  
  
  
  
The sleek black car rumbled across the highway towards the intersection. This was peace. Paradise, as Dean knew it, with the music of worn cassettes cradling his eardrums lovingly in their familiar drone. He tapped his fingers absently against the side of the wheel to the beat of _Hot for Teacher_ , catching Sam's eyes and flashing a wide smile.  
  
"You wanna grab lunch before we get to it?" he asked. The car jolted a bit over a bump, and Sam's pen skidded across his book. He slapped it into the crease of the pages in frustration, and Dean chortled.  
  
"We ate an hour ago," Sam protested. "You can't possibly be hungry again."  
  
"Ah, Sammy," Dean cranked the music up, "Gotta celebrate, now that things are normal."  
  
"You make it sound like we're living the height of domestic bliss," Sam retorted, "Instead of hunting..." He squinted at his notes, "A  _giant walking pile of rocks._ "  
  
Castiel's voice floated over from the backseat. "Rocks do not walk." He scrunched his forehead pensively. "Or, at least, most do not."  
  
Jack next to him imitated his forehead scrunch. "Are rocks...alive?"  
  
"No," Castiel assured him, "Almost none are."  
  
It did nothing to wipe the pinched expression on Jack's face, and the scrunch deepened into a distrustful frown that would probably be directed at every pebble under the sun from then on. Sam passed the notes over to Castiel, who began rummaging through them, and Jack plucked at his seatbelt.   
  
Dean wondered if he should tell Castiel sometime that the pet rock( _Marcus,_ Cas had declared) he got him for Christmas wasn't actually alive and that he had dedicated quite a lot of energy moving it around the bunker when he wasn't looking.   
  
Eh. He could drag it out a bit longer.  
  
The Impala hit another bump as Dean turned down the city streets of Trent Woods, North Carolina. Behind him, Jack whacked his head onto the back of Dean's seat from the impact.   
  
"You alright?" Sam asked. "Shouldn't have been messing with the seatbelt, Jack."  
  
"Shit fuck tits," Jack said mildly, rubbing his head.   
  
The car screeched to a halt in the middle of a cul-de-sac. Dean whipped his head around to the backseat to glare at them both.   
  
Sam suddenly looked very interested in looking out the window. Castiel stared blankly back at Dean.  
  
"Who," Dean hissed, "Taught the kid to  _fucking swear?"_  
  
"I don't know why you're looking at me, Dean," Castiel sullenly crossed his arms, the picture of prim and proper. "I do my best to not be vulgar."  
  
"Shit fuck tits," repeated Jack happily.  
  
"Stop that," Dean spluttered, "Sam, did you-"  
  
"Maybe he learned it from you, Dean." Sam looked like he was going to sink into the leather seat and die, and he was still seemingly absorbed in inspecting a leaf on the window.   
  
"Excuse you-"  
  
"You don't exactly have a clean mouth, Dean," pointed out Sam. "If you have a potty mouth, it's the worst gas station toilet port-a-potty the world's ever seen. Like there's phone numbers on the walls to chlamydia strains that haven't even been invented yet."  
  
"Alright, shit, fu-" Dean caught himself, "Yeah, okay, Sam, thanks for the visual aid, but I'm not having the kid wash his mouth out with soap. Just doesn't feel right coming out of... _him._ "  
  
Sam shrugged at him like it was entirely his fault that a barely few months-old child-adult- _nephilim_  was spouting off like a sailor in Dean's car.   
  
"What's chlamydia?" Jack cut through the awkward space. Dean rested his head on the dashboard and tried to take deep breaths.  
  
"A very serious venereal disease," Castiel stated gravely. "With potentially devastating consequences if left untreated, and a severe burning sensation of the urethr-"  
  
"Let's play the quiet game!" Dean said brightly. Castiel furrowed his brows impossibly further and frowned.   
  
"Dean, I hate the quiet game and I don't understand how to win-"   
  
" _Shhshshshshhhhhh!_ " Dean put a finger to his lips and cranked the music up to 11.  
  
  
                                                                                                               ---  
  
  



	2. Sedimentary, My Dear Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Looks like they had a _smashing_ time."
> 
> "Dean..."
> 
> "I guess we just can't take life for _granite_."
> 
> "Dean." Sam rubbed the pulsing vein in his temple. "Someone _died._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did a creepy amount of research on Trent Woods but will probably still get details wrong, so if you live there, I apologise in advance for any details I might get wrong.  
> This chapter has some graphic descriptions of violence/gore so I'll update the ratings/tags accordingly.

Something about a stack of fresh waffles overflowing with syrup was magical and meant to be savored.   
  
Not that Dean would know, as he was currently inhaling his plateful.  
  
Castiel was sipping a mug of coffee with both hands next to him in the booth( _girl style, you gonna start an Instagram?_ ) Dean had smirked.   
  
Marcus the rock was sitting atop the Waffle House table. At some point, Cas had applied two small googly eyes. Sam decided to not address it, but felt that the rock was giving him judgmental side-eye in a way that shouldn't have been possible.  
  
"Look at this," Sam shuffled the plates to make room for his laptop, and turned the screen. "There's been another one. Same as the last, one dead, one witness, and they keep going on about rocks."  
  
"You think it targets couples?" Castiel plucked a piece of stray waffle that had gone airborne from Dean's own plate into his cup and stared at Dean reproachfully, who responded with a noisy scraping of fork and slurping. Jack poked at a strawberry banana pancake.  
  
"No, I don't think so," Sam frowned, tucking hair behind his ears. "The first two were siblings, and this one was two students working on a project. From what I can see on their social media, they were not dating."  
  
"We gotta interview that last one and hit up the morgue, then," Dean put down the plate he was licking. "Suit up."  
  
                                                                                                              ---  
  
"Three agents? Wow, this must be something bad."  
  
The coroner blinked owlishly through thick-rimmed glasses at Jack. "And who is this?"  
  
"Student," Dean flashed his badge again for good measure and slapped Jack on the back. "Tagging along to do research, observe, that sort of thing."  
  
"Research, observe," Jack supplied helpfully. He looked both ways. "Can you direct us to your freshest body?"  
  
"Uh," the coroner fumbled for his keys, giving Jack a look and turned the lock in the door to the morgue. "Well, there's not much of a body, per say."  
  
It turned out the coroner was more than correct. Dean covered his nose with his suit sleeve, the acrid sweet-sour scent of flesh and organs burning his nostrils.   
  
On the tray was the remains of Willie Ahlers, limbs contorted unnaturally and ripped into stumps. His head was twisted almost all the way around, throat ripped out. Below, his torso was open and exposed to the air. His organs were in the fridge in pieces, neatly arranged in clinical Tupperware.  
  
Jack seemed unperturbed, cocking his head. "There's a lot of bite marks." He leaned forward and inhaled deeply. "Werewolf?" he looked up at Dean for approval. Dean winced as Jack inhaled hard enough to snort.  
  
"Alright, that's enough, don't Hoover the dead guy like Cas does," Dean zipped the body bag back up and slid the tray back into its unit. "And that doesn't explain the walking rocks thing, but people have said weirder things after seeing their buddy get shredded into dog food."  
  
"Then..." Jack was in the fridge, examining a container of what probably used to be lung, "What the hell is it?"  
  
Dean glanced at Jack briefly before taking the container out of his hands and putting it back in the fridge. "Don't-nah, you know what, that gets a pass. Just don't say it in front of Sam, he'll take away your Netflix privileges and Cas will probably give you a timeout and make you say a bunch of Hail Marys."  
  
Jack looked properly horrified at the prospect.  
  
                                                                                                                ---  
  
"Hey," Sam knocked lightly on the hospital room door, and the woman on the bed looked startled, her eyes darting from side to side. "Is it okay if we talk to you? Just have a couple questions."  
  
The woman cleared her throat, sitting up on the bed a little straighter. "Who...who are you?"  
  
"I'm Agent Halen," Sam said softly, Castiel stepping in beside him. "And this is-"  
  
"Agent Bieber," Cas interrupted, holding up his badge. The woman's face creased in momentary confusion. Sam shot Cas a look.   
  
  
"Yeah, uh, we just wanted to know what happened. Hear it from you," Sam sat on the uncomfortable chair next to the hospital bed.   
  
"I already told the police, why don't you ask them?" The woman crossed her arms and looked down. "They didn't believe me, and you won't either."  
  
"You would be surprised what we believe," Cas stated. "Ms. Miller."  
  
Ms. Miller played with her IV drip nervously. "It's like I said. We were out in the forest, taking photos for our photography class project. Then," she shuddered, and Cas schooled his face into what was probably meant to be sympathy, but Sam thought it just looked like he was slightly constipated.   
  
"It came out of nowhere. Willie was just screaming, so much screaming, and I just--" Ms. Miller put her head in her hands and gasped. "I'm sorry, it's just..."  
  
"I know it's difficult," Sam placed a hand on her blanketed knee. "Do you remember anything unusual? What the attacker looked like?"  
  
"Like a human boulder," tears dripped from Ms. Miller's face as she spoke, "A-a big boulder. I know, it sounds insane. But that's what I saw."  
  
"Thank you," Sam patted her knee before straightening. "Just get some rest."  
  
Castiel followed him out into the hall, shoes clicking on the floor in double time to catch up to Sam's long stride. "Golem?"  
  
"Maybe," Sam held up his phone. "Dean texted, said he's done with the morgue, he's swinging our way to pick us up."  
  
It rang, and he put it to his ear. "Dean?"  
  
"Gimme like five minutes," Dean sounded tinny on the other end of the line, and Sam reflected on how many times he had told him to not use speakerphone for that exact reason. "Grabbing food."  
  
"How did the victim look?"  
  
     "Looks like they had a  _smashing_ time."

"Dean..."

     "I guess we just can't take life for _granite_."

"Dean." Sam rubbed the pulsing vein in his temple. "Someone _died_."

He looked up from his screen as he clicked disconnect.  
  
Castiel was some ways ahead of him and did not seem to have heard, instead staring into the gift shop. Sam stopped next to the smaller man.  
  
"You see something you want? Everything here is really overpriced, Cas."  
  
Cas tilted his head like a curious puppy and jabbed his finger at a box through the glass. "What is a jigsaw puzzle?"  
  
"Uh," Sam fumbled for an answer, "It's a picture you put together from these pieces in the box." He pointed at the small low-res image in the corner of puzzle pieces. "And when you're done, you get to see the picture."  
  
Cas turned his head up at him unblinkingly. "But the picture is already on the box."  
  
"It's fun, Cas," Sam replied. "It's fun. And it's a good exercise in logic and stuff." Castiel continued to stare at him, and Sam shrugged exasperatedly.   
  
Cas was already through the door and picking up the puzzles, and Sam groaned when he settled on a 2000 piece of a cabin in a garden with what had to be a million types of flowers. He held it up to Sam's face as he followed him in.  
  
"This one has bees," he pushed the box into Sam's arms, "We should do it with Jack, if you are correct it might be helpful for stimulation."  
  
"Okay, okay." Sam made a mental note to put the box under the bathroom sink as soon as possible and slid the box across the counter to a bored cashier. He turned towards the angel. "Wallet?"  
  
Cas nudged his hip. "You have the cards."  
  
Sam groaned and reached into his pocket. He could already feel a migraine coming on.  
  
                                                                                                         ---


	3. Jack, Smash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean let out what was definitely not a much too high-pitched screech at the sight of the enormous boulder soaring towards Baby. 
> 
> Like witnessing a four car accident pile-up, he couldn't tear his eyes away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry with the lack of update, my Facebook got disabled because an extremely common male name I go by is not considered a "real name" somehow.  
> But I'm back, and going to try to knock out a bunch of chapters in the next couple days. 
> 
> I'm looking forward to the final season of Supernatural; I really hope the ending doesn't suck and maybe they retire and live happily ever after(I'm 99% sure Cas is just going to be flung into The Empty or something equally miserable, though.) -_-  
> But fuck it, all the actors deserve a break, yeah?

Shag carpet in bathrooms, Dean decided, should be illegal. Doubly so when said carpet actually had the nerve to extend partway up the side of the tub.  
  
He slid his feet into the pair of slippers he took with him and toweled off his hair. No point in contracting something, and knowing his luck, it would be some sort of cursed fungus.   
  
The motels they stayed in were always sort of fugly, but every once in a while, one would be so awful it would top the last. Usually it was almost charmingly kitsch, but in this case, Dean was almost convinced to switch.  
  
At least there was a kitchenette. Dean threw on clothes and proceeded to drip-shuffle across the room towards the fridge. Sam was already on his laptop on the ratty couch, long legs crossed, and he shot Dean a look of annoyance at the stray drops of water.  
  
Cas gave him a look of pure ice daggers from where he was seated on the terrible forest-green carpet, holding his hands out to cover the pile of puzzle pieces on the table protectively.  
  
Just to spite him, Dean sped up his drip-shuffling. He whipped the beer cap off with a practiced air and handed one to Sam.  
  
"So get this," Sam said, and Dean idly wondered if he should get him a T-shirt with the catchphrase on it, "There is actually lore about our rock thing. The Cherokee and Iroquois have this story about stone giants-"  
  
"Don't you think we'd've heard about hulking rock people, Sammy?"  
  
Dean tipped half the beer back in one swallow. He swung his slippered feet onto the table.  
Cas nudged his foot out of the way irritably to continue hyperfocusing on his game without looking up. Jack snored and rolled over on the cushions, mumbling. His heel knocked Cas in the shoulder so he dropped his piece and Jack inadvertently kicked Sam in the thigh, creating a long string of _asdfghjdasffgdfhs_ on his keyboard.  
  
 "Dean has a point, Sam," Cas carefully slotted the corner piece back into place, "Such a thing is not exactly inconspicuous. And I have never heard of it."  
  
"Nvyunuwi," Sam rolled his eyes at Dean immediately butchering the pronunciation as he repeated after him. "Stoneclad. Or Stonecoat. Maybe the angels are just really colonialist, Cas, there seems to be more on them than some of the things we've hunted. Or they have some way of hiding, who even knows."  
  
Cas straightened up. "I can check the surrounding woods in a five mile radius. But I still do not think that Stoneclads have existed without angelic knowledge of their existence."  
  
Sam looked like he was about to deliver a spicy retort, but with an ethereal  _whoosh_ , Cas was gone.  
  
Dean put down the now empty bottle. "What kills them? That's all I care about."  
  
"Uh," Sam typed rapidly, "Well, the running theory is that they're either stone-skinned ancient witches, or man-eating former humans. You gotta destroy their talismans or..." Sam hesitated. "Huh. Menstrual blood."  
  
Dean slapped him on the shoulder wearing a shit-eating grin. "Well, that's easy, we got you right here, Sammy."  
  
"Shut the fuck up, Dean."  
  
"Ooh, potty mouth. Thought you didn't wanna swear in front of the kid, you on your perio-"  
  
There was a familiar flapping noise, and Castiel reappeared. His hair was wild, tie askew, and his coat looked like it had been dragged through dirt.   
  
"We have to leave," he hissed. Dean immediately jumped up and began shaking Jack awake, and Sam swatted a twig off Cas' shoulder.    
  
"What do you mean? What was out there?" The concern in Sam's voice was palpable as he began shoving his laptop cords into his duffel bag.   
  
Cas' eyes were huge. "We need to leave  _now,_ they  _followed me_ , I don't know h-"   
  
They were interrupted by the sound of shattering glass as a massive rock exploded through the window.  
  
                                                                                              ---  
  
The breath was knocked out of Sam as Cas bowled him over to safety. Narrowly, another rock hurtled past him to explode into the table.   
  
Cas suppressed a groan at the now utterly destroyed 2000 piece monstrosity of a puzzle and climbed off of Sam with a reproachful look.   
  
" _What the hell is that?!_ " Dean yelled.   
  
"Rocks  _are_ alive," Jack said happily. He squinted in sudden confusion. "And...trying to kill us?"  
  
Sam attempted to get to his feet, but scrambled to the side as a huge piece of shale nearly decapitated him.  
  
"Jack, do you think you can do anything about these?" he shouted over the din of a distant, thundering roar. Another boulder plunged straight through the horrid powder-blue pinstriped thin walls of the motel room straight towards Dean. Before he could even move, Jack's hand had already shot up and suspended the massive makeshift weapon into the air.  
  
"Leave!" he yelled through the dust of the crumbling walls. "Go away or I'll throw it back!"  
  
There wasn't an answer other than another rumbling roar, so loud it shook their bones, from somewhere across the parking lot across the hills of the forest fog.  
  
Jack turned his fist and pulled it back, crackling with energy.  
  
" _Leave my family the fuck alone!_ _"_  
  
Dean let out what was definitely not a much too high-pitched screech at the sight of the enormous boulder soaring towards Baby.

Like witnessing a four car accident pile-up, he couldn't tear his eyes away.  _Oh, God. Oh, Chuck. Ohgodohgodohgod-_  
  
  
It smashed into the roof of Castiel's 1978 Lincoln Continental Mark V with a sickening crumple of metal. The siren went off, then gurgled as it perished.  
  
The roaring stopped abruptly. Dean let out a sigh of relief.   
  
"Baby...whew..."  
  
Sam stared at Jack open-mouthed. "What...Jack, what did I say about swearing?"  
  
"Sorry, Sam," Jack blinked at him and beamed. "But I threw the rock back."  
  
"My car," Cas wailed, dropping to his knees.   
  
                                                                                             ---  
  


 


	4. Continental Drifting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Zap zap," Dean pronounced before taking off for the trees.
> 
> "I do not-" but Sam was already plodding away towards his brother, and Cas deflated, "Zap."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know there is a such thing as gingerbread coffee? I didn't. It's good.
> 
> Also rip the Pimpmobile, resurrected only so I could kill it off(you didn't really think I was going to kill Baby, did you? Hell nah. That's my favorite type of car). Eric Kripke, you know where to find me if you need more people to do that sort of thing.

"It took a  _very_ long time," Dean was positive there was a grit to Cas' teeth as he spoke, "To get that car back from where Metatron had dumped it."  
  
Jack sunk ever lower in his seat. Sam rolled his eyes as the Impala went over a speed bump. "It was kind of a hassle, Cas. I don't know why you brought it. Switching nonstop this whole trip was annoying. Not to mention the motel charged for the additional parking space."  
  
He watched in the rearview mirror at the barely perceptible vein throbbing in Cas' jaw as his stare dared him to say another word.   
  
"Not to mention now we have to find a new motel in the next town once this is over," Dean groused. "All that racket."  
  
"Jack can learn to drive," Cas insisted. Dean chortled.   
  
"Yeah, he can learn to crash it and drive on the wrong side of the road like you."  
  
They had floored it out of the parking lot immediately after the destruction, not wanting to be stopped or questioned by nosy authorities, not sure how to explain  _hey a bunch of fucking rocks meteor-ed through your motel walls and took out an entire room, sorry, my bad, here's a tip and thank you for the bath towels._   _Also, you're_ _welcome for the free demolition_ , _now you have to renovate this 60s_   _psychedelic nightmare_.  _Oops.  
  
_ The Impala skidded over the now dirt road and the green, tall trees loomed darkly overhead. There wasn't streetlights this far out, only the minimal twinkle of a few stars when they peeked out from around the thick branches. Dean yoinked it into park.   
  
"We have to walk from here," Dean said in response to Sam's raised eyebrows.   
  
"Yeah, Dean, confronting the giant things that threw boulders at us an hour ago in the  _middle of the night_ is a great idea."  
  
Dean didn't hear him, the doors already opening as everyone piled out, and Sam gave a long-suffering sigh and followed.   
  
                                                                                           ---  
  
Castiel watched with mild irritation at the dance of Dean's fingers. Or rather, his left hand flailing wildly in what appeared to be a language he somehow couldn't speak.  
  
"What?"  
  
Dean rolled his eyes and elbowed Sam, accidentally jostling the shotgun in his brother's grip. He slowly raised his palm and gestured at the woods. Then pointed at Castiel and Jack, flapping impatiently.   
  
"Zap zap," Dean pronounced before taking off for the trees. Castiel watched him go, confusion settling into the lines of his face. Sam slapped him bodily on the shoulder.   
  
"It's code, Cas. He means you and Jack go that way, we'll meet you in the middle, and zap anything that looks at you twice."  
  
"I do not-" but Sam was already plodding away towards his brother, and Cas deflated, "Zap."  
  
Jack looked up at him expectantly, waiting for his direction. Castiel shrugged his blade from its hiding place in his sleeve, half-doubting its usefulness in the face of ancient, enchanted rock. He touched Jack's shoulder, and with that, they both disappeared into the darkness.  
  
                                                                                            ---  
  
Apart from almost tripping into a thatch of poison ivy and definitely stepping on an unfortunate mushroom that made a terrible wet  _pop_ when his foot came down on it, there wasn't much of anything. Certainly no man-eating witchy slabs of stone.   
  
"You got that thing we need, Sammy?" Dean whispered. His brother swiveled his head around.   
  
"What? What thing? We're walking into this with salt shells and we don't even know what their talismans look like."  
  
"Your tampon, Sammy." Dean dodged the exasperated swipe of Sam's hand. Cas and Jack materialized in front of them, making Dean almost trip in the leaves on the dirt before catching himself.   
  
"Fu- _,"_  Sam shot him a meaningful look, "- _dge_ , it's been years and you never warn a guy before you pop in!"  
  
"There isn't anything in this perimeter," Cas stated as calmly as if he was announcing the weather. Jack craned his head up to look at the crescent moon. "But I did drop Marcus whilst flying. I shall return shortly. Jack, stay."   
  
He  _whooshed_ out once more, and Dean snorted. " _Whilst?_ Okay, Aragorn."  
  
Dean kicked at the ground with his boots while Sam marked a nearby pine with his knife. It wasn't like they'd get lost with Cas around, but it was better safe than sorry, and Dean was silently proud of Sam for remembering such a survivalist detail.  
  
Where were the stony fuckers? He didn't really want to go further into the forest, but it was starting to look like they might have to, and it was already three in the morning. His toe caught on something hard, and he winced. Looking down, he saw it was a small brown rock, worn smooth by handling. The two googly eyes glued onto its surface lolled up at him.  
He bent down and scooped it up.  
  
"Cas, we found Marcus," he said aloud, giving the rock a toss. Jack tried to reach up for it but Dean kept it out of his reach, bouncing it up and down in his palm. "Come get it, Cas, I think he misses his  _daddy_ , it looks like  _Marcus_ is about to cry-"  
  
There was a sound behind him, a breeze of air, and Dean turned gleefully, fully expecting Cas' gravelly _"rocks cannot cry, Dean"_ but that was not what greeted him at all.  
  
A massive, mossy behemoth of a creature stared down at him with pinpoints of yellow light behind its granite facade. Sam was frozen where he stood, knife still in hand, the pine tree rent in two from where the Stoneclad erupted from it.  
  
A deep rumble coursed through the air, shaking Dean's eardrums, and it took him a second to realize it was words. His throat made an unsuccessful dry swallow, and he knew he should call for Cas again, but couldn't find the words. He settled for gaping up at the great mouth of the beast that used to be a man that was lined with teeth of shale.  
  
 _"Give us,"_ the Stoneclad monotoned,  _"Our son."_  
  
                                                                                          ---  
  
  
                                                                                         


	5. Playing Gneiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end is in sight. I apologise for being late, was very sick and working out some kinks for my work(not those kind of kinks, you perv)but I do not apologise for the geology puns.
> 
> Anyway I'm going to go write smutty crack to make up for the lack of porn this fic has.

_The shittiest shitting luck in the entire shitting universe,_ Dean thought glumly to himself,  _That's what we got, right here._  
  
Sam made an undignified fish-out-of-water noise from his still gaping mouth off to the side, and fell backwards on his ass. Dean took a small measure of comfort in remaining upright.   
  
"Uh," he finally managed to get out, still boggling up at the gigantic Stoneclad's expressionless face, "What?"  
  
The Stoneclad huffed impatiently. Its breath blew back Dean's hair, and he could feel Jack vibrating next to him angrily. It was that unfortunate moment Castiel decided to pop back into existence.  
  
"Dean, I couldn't find Marcus but I heard you did and it was very ru-"  
  
The Stoneclad swept a huge arm at the sudden intrusion, and Dean belatedly noted it was much faster than its size made it appear. Cas went flying into the oak next to Dean before sliding down it.  
  
"Shit, Cas, are you alright?" Sam scrabbled over on his knees while the Stoneclad roared above them, and the ground shook.  
  
"Oof," Cas replied eloquently, and slumped over.  
  
_"Your magic does not work here, child,"_ the rock giant intoned at Jack's sputtering golden light coming from his hands.  
Jack furiously shook his head and kept at it.   
  
_"You will wear yourself out,"_ the Stoneclad said, seemingly amused. _"We just want the safe return of our son."_  


"Tell you what," Dean croaked, "We give you Mar-your son, and you'll stop ganking every fucking hiker that comes up here?"  
  
The giant tilted its head curiously to the side, and Dean wondered if it was a universal trait among non-humans.   
  
" _We thought they had taken him,"_ the Stoneclad pronounced, Ent-like in how slow it spoke, as if it had been a very long time since it had to use words. " _But it appears that you have him, and we have searched long and wide. If not for he in your hands, you would all have been dead by now. Do not harm him, return him to us immediately, and we will allow you to depart if you never return."_  
  
  
"I'll come back if I find out you kill more people," Dean pointed out. "But here, you can take it for all I care. Take your, uh, son."  
  
"But Dean," Cas whispered raspily, sitting up slightly from where he was against Sam's shoulder, "Marcus can't be...it's not even remotely possible, do you know how many roc-"  
  
Dean tossed Marcus up in the air towards the giant and surreptitiously kicked Cas in the groin before he could complete his sentence.  
  
The Stoneclad took the rock and looked solemnly into its googly eyes.   
  
" _Do not run off like that, my son, or the consequences next time will be dire."_  
  
With that, it placed Marcus upon its shoulder, and lumbered off into the woods.  
  
                                                                                            ---  
  
"Easier than I thought," Dean remarked, popping open the cap of his beer before chugging it down with gusto. He slammed it down on the dusty counter of the bar.  
  
"I like cases where we don't have to kill anything," Sam said amicably, stirring one finger in his glass and absorbed in his laptop while Jack read over his shoulder.  
  
"I agree," Cas sipped from his ridiculous tiny teacup of chai he had insisted on ordering, "You two do kill quite a lot of things."  
  
"Cas, I'm not touching that," Dean rolled his eyes. Cas frowned in his general direction.   
  
"I miss Marcus."  
  
"About that," Sam closed the laptop and laced his fingers together nervously. He scratched the back of his neck as the waitress stopped by to drop off their food. "Uh...Marcus...was a pet rock...so he wasn't..."  
  
"Wasn't what?" Cas narrowed his eyes, and Sam blanched.   
  
"He wasn't...really ali-"  
  
Dean hefted something from under the table that he had been keeping on the seat and plopped it solidly onto Cas's teacup dish.  
  
"Here you go, buddy."  
  
They all stared. It was a medium-sized grey stone with googly eyes and a small, blue-Sharpied cut-out motel-paper tie taped onto it. Some hair had been hastily scribbled onto its top.  
  
"Oh shit," Jack breathed. Sam glared at him. Laughing nervously, Dean adjusted the collar of his Henley.  
  
"I know it ain't no Marcus, but I was hoping this was okay," he mumbled. Cas reached out and cupped the rock tenderly in his long fingers.  
  
"Thank you, Dean," he said sincerely. "She's perfect."  
  
"Okay how-" Sam spluttered, about to point out the ridiculousness of gendering a  _stone_ , but Cas continued on while Dean preened.  
  
"I will name her...Strata," Cas beamed, and placed the rock tenderly into his trench pocket.  
  
"Fuckin' aces," Jack declared, and Dean laughed so hard he snorted beer out of his nose.  
  
Sam sighed and drained his glass before signaling for a refill.   
  
"You know what, Jack?" Jack swiveled his head around to him, eyes wide, "Go for it."  
  
"Go for...what, Sam?" he queried.   
  
"Cuss. Swear. Blaspheme," Cas kicked Sam in the shin at that, and he studiously ignored it, "Literally, I so do not care. Go for it. It's really the least of our problems."  
  
"You...you really mean it?" Jack's eyes shone as if Sam had given him an entire candy store, handed him the keys, and told him he owned the chocolate factory. "I can say... _fuck?"_  
  
Sam winced.  
  
"Yeah, sure, buddy. Just try to say it quietly if we're outside, okay?"  
  
Jack was practically quivering in his seat and his grin was absolutely earsplitting. "Thank you, Sam. I treasure this privilege."  
  
Sam stuck his fork into his salad in lieu of a reply. He knew part of him was going to really regret this, and his fears were realised as soon as Jack took a bite of his bacon burger.  
  
"Oh," he whispered reverently. Cas sipped another ridiculous tiny sip out of his cup. "Oh.... _Jesus tittyfucking Christ on a stick_."  
  
_On the other hand, maybe it was worth it_ , Sam reflected from behind his laptop screen as Cas choked blue on his tea in an extremely unangelic manner and Dean whooped with laughter.  
  
                                                                                            ---  
  
  



End file.
